And here I am, yet again, with my heart in my throat, tears in my eyes, sick in my stomach and a hand over my mouth, reading about a neighbour-to-neighbour slaughter of every Jew (men, women, children) at the hands of not just the Nazis (I’m sorry, all of my history teachers, you have been white-washing the history while indoctrinating us with false patriotism, talking about the Polish pride, golden freedom and your righteous code), but their own neighbours, who took kitchen knives in their hands, entered the houses of their Jewish neighbours and within less than a week slaughtered every single one of them. Five thousand Jews were slaughtered in that pogrom. In that small, tiny village that means absolutely nothing on the map, the representatives of three different nations (German, Polish and Ukrainian) managed to find determination and unfailing strength in their arms to lift their guns and knives at people who were defenseless. Love your neighbour like yourself, the commandment that is central to Christianity, just at it is central to Judaism, didn’t apply here. Chas v’shalom.
I know where to look for the said family now – in Yad vaShem.
I am at war with myself most of the time. On one hand, I grew up in Poland. I had friends there. My family still lives there. My brother studies at the university near the town I am reading about at this very moment and he has friends too. Sometimes I call my Mum to say: “Hey Mum, I’m now in X”. She answers usually: “Oh, that’s next to us”, but she never asks for details. … More Lost For Words: When the Jew in me argues with the Pole